A story about your next-door neighbour.
I sometimes harp back to the days when everyone knew everyone that lived close. The open-door policy where there was no need to knock, just shout a greeting and stick the kettle on as you passed through the kitchen. Where all birth, marriages and deaths were a communal event and triumphs and disasters merited the same response. A nice cup of tea was all that was required to put the world to rights and care-in-the-community was not a propaganda slogan but a way of living. Life was simpler, uncluttered by the outside world and untroubled by the trappings of technology.